A Bad Day
by Hipster Blood Ritual
Summary: Moriarty has infiltrated the British government. Mycroft is having some chronic bad days. Not bad enough to call Sherlock for help, obviously... Until something horrible happens... Will be rated K  unless something bad needs to happen.
1. Chapter 1

Mycroft surveyed his brass umbrella stand. 46 umbrellas. He took his current favourite, a slim black one, with a particularly sharp spoke. It matched his personality.

But as he took it up in his hand, he realized something felt wrong.

He balanced it carefully on his fingertip, closing his eyes. It balanced fine. What was wrong with it?

Carefully, he opened it. At first glance, all seemed fine. He looked closer and saw a tiny rent in the fabric.

Unacceptable.

He briefly considered not going to work.

On second thought, he would be able to take his frustration out on the stupid politicians on Downing Street.

He took his second favorite umbrella off the stand and unceremoniously tossed the ruined one in the bin.

He'd have to purchase a new one immediately.

Breakfast was brought to his office at nine AM exactly. So when it was four minutes late, Mycroft knew he was going to have a bad day.

He hated having bad days, because he always did something he'd regret later.

Sherlock sulked on his bad days. Mycroft very often did something particularly evil.

Like the time he fired that French chef.

He still sort of regretted that, actually. The man had been good at pastries.

Not, of course, that Mycroft ate many pastries. He needed to stay tall and thin in order to stay sufficiently imposing.

Luckily the new chef that had been hired recently was particularly good at low-calorie cooking.

But that, of course, was as classified as information got. Imagine the humiliation if an enemy found out.

Or worse, Sherlock.

When breakfast finally arrived, at 9:04 AM, Mycroft was hungry and annoyed.

So when the Prime Minister came into his office with documents for him to sign, Mycroft made sure to carefully confirm some nasty rumors about him.

When he logged onto the Downing Street message board to post the rumors anonymously, he noticed a thread that he'd overlooked.

The Power Behind the Government was the title.

What now?

He clicked the thread, making doubly sure was logged in anonymously.

It was full of rumors about the power behind the government. Namely, him.

The day had gone from bad to worse.

Mycroft deleted the thread and tracked down the original poster. He sent a message to have them executed.

His favourite umbrella was broken, his breakfast had come late and someone had uncovered him.

He actually felt like going to bed again. Maybe tomorrow would be a better day.


	2. Chapter 2

The next day, Mycroft dressed in his favourite grey suit.

Today would be a good day, he was sure of it. There was a meeting to discuss the criminal population of London, which he was going to relay nothing of to Sherlock until he begged. That thought was enough to make him smile.

He picked out his new favourite umbrella, a black one with a gold spoke and handle.

He got to the office at the same time as his breakfast. Checking his watch, it was exactly on time. He ate the whole thing, than prepared for the meeting.

He walked in at precisely 10 AM, the scheduled start time.

The other board members had already begun.

"What is the meaning of this?" They'd started the meeting without him?

"We weren't sure if you were coming." The Prime Minister said. "We waited twenty minutes for you."

"I've waited all week for this meeting." Mycroft's voice was dangerously low. "None of you thought to call? Or text?"

The board looked appropriately abashed.

"I could ruin every one of your lives." Mycroft settled in his seat at the head of his table. "See that it doesn't happen again."

They'd started the meeting without him. Half his mind memorized the happenings of the meeting while the other half planned exactly how he would destroy these people's careers and reputations. And whoever had changed his watch.

As he got up after the meeting, feeling slightly better, the spoke on his umbrella fell off.

He carefully held on to sanity until he got to the privacy of his office.

Something or someone was out to get him.

Something deserved to die.

He functioned, barely. Every day, something horrible happened to the umbrella he chose. Breakfast came late, they didn't have his usual lunch.

He vented his frustration by annoying the Prime Minister and other board members. He gave the okay for several major building projects that were supposed to be in negotiating status for the next 5 years. He signed for a renovation on Downing Street. He pretended to have lost several documents that would have started World War Three.

It was enjoyable to see the expressions on their faces for the last trick, especially since one of them called in Sherlock.

Sherlock took one look at him and refused the case.

Mycroft 'found' the documents three days later.

_

It was bearable, until the day he stepped on a scale.

He'd gained five pounds.

This was the end.

Someone was going to die a very painful death.


	3. Chapter 3

Mycroft had his entire staff at his house replaced, then did the same at Downing Street.

Things seemed to be going fine, until his ties started disappearing.

He couldn't take it anymore.

He was going to have to tell Sherlock.

Sherlock's phone buzzed.

He flipped it open to view the text message.

_Obtained case. Interested? MH_

Sherlock frowned. He was so bored... but he wasn't going to stoop so low as to accept a case from Mycroft.

When Sherlock didn't respond, Mycroft grew irritated.

He really couldn't deal with Sherlock's stubborn personality right now.

The phone buzzed again. Sherlock growled in annoyance. He reached for his phone.

_Not interested? MH  
><em>  
>Sherlock waited another hour, but Lestrade failed to contact him with an important case. He sighed. He was going to have to accept the case.<p>

_Whatever. SH  
><em>

Finally.

_I'll come over. MH_

Necessary? SH

Yes. MH

"Mycroft's coming over, John." Sherlock didn't look up from his computer screen as the other man returned from work.

"Wonderful." John grimaced. "Shall I make some tea?"

"Depends on if you want it or not."

Now he knew he was really bored; accepting a case from Mycroft.

He hoped the case was interesting.

"How's the diet coming?" Sherlock pointedly asked.

Mycroft did look a little more ruffled than usual, John noticed as he brought out the tea. Not at all his usual sleek appearance.

"That's only half the problem." Mycroft leaned on his umbrella. "It's whoever's behind the staff at Downing Street and my house."

"Sorry?" Sherlock hid a smile. He secretly enjoyed seeing his brother in this position. "Maybe you could tell me the WHOLE story? And verbally, please, so John can understand."

**A/N  
>I guess all the chapters for this are all pretty short...<strong>

I'm glad people are enjoying this. I think Mycroft is my favourite POV to write in.


	4. Chapter 4

There wasn't much to tell. Mycroft relayed what had happened over the last few weeks, most importantly the disappearing ties, the broken umbrellas and the weight gain.

As a Holmes, Sherlock understood the gravity of the situation. Not a Holmes, John tried not to laugh at how upset Mycroft was.

Apparently both Holmes brothers were too dramatic for their own good.

"I'll see what I can do." Sherlock said, when Mycroft was done. "It may take a bit, as whoever is responsible has done a very good job infiltrating."

Mycroft blanched. "How long?"

Sherlock thought a moment. "Probably a week at most."

"How am I going to survive?" Mycroft asked in horror. "I'll be ten pounds heavier and have no umbrellas left."

Sherlock sighed. "I know. But it's imperative that you stick this out. Pretend the perpetrator is succeeding."

"What if he is?"

Sherlock shrugged. "I always thought you were stronger than that. I have trouble believing that you're really as lost as you pretend to be."

Mycroft got up from his chair and made ready to leave. "Fine."

The door to the flat clicked shut.

Sherlock laid back in his chair, eyes closed and a faint smile playing on his face.

"Do you have any ideas?" John asked him.

Sherlock opened one eye. "Quite obviously. I have it all figured out. I received a message a day ago. It's on the mantle if you'd care to read it."

John got up to look at the mantle. "What did it say?"

"I haven't the faintest." Sherlock said, surprised. "I haven't read it yet, if that's what you think."

John found the unopened envelope and brought it back to his chair. "Why not? Didn't you think it would be useful?"

Sherlock's eyes opened a crack. " I was busy. I asked Mrs. Hudson to just put it on the mantle for me."

John sighed. "And because you were too lazy to walk two paces and get it to read."

Sherlock's eyes darted away. "Noo. I was busy."

"Right." The letter open, John read it aloud. "My dear Sherlock. I have been thinking of you often recently, and was wondering if you would oblige me for tea on the-"

Sherlock snatched the paper out of John's hands.

"Not that one idiot." Sherlock stuffed the letter in question into his jacket. "It'll obviously pertain to the case. And that one was_ open_. Try to use your brain."

John rolled his eyes and reached for the other envelope.

"Never mind." Sherlock swatted his hand out of the way. "I'll get it."

Sherlock's slender fingers broke the small seal on the envelope as John collapsed on his chair.

John watched Sherlock's eyes dart back and forth across the paper, reading at a seemingly impossible rate.

"Yes." Sherlock confirmed, a minute later. "This is exactly what we need."

"Well, give it here." John reached out for the piece of paper.

_I suppose your brother has been over. Quite a fall from his usual, you must agree. But I do suppose that what he's been going through the past few days has been quite traumatic. You _are _going to help him, right? We all know he's helped you out too many times to count._

_Well, when you decide to get on it, come find me at the college. I trust you know who I am._

_Oh, and bring John. It'll be nice to see you two together._

"Who the hell is this person?" John asked.

Sherlock pulled on his coat. "You don't need to know."

"Of course not." John got to his feet. "Because my intelligence is _average."_

Sherlock grinned as he tied his scarf. "Indeed. Come on!"

**A/N**

**Well, I'm not dead luckily. Here I am updating cuz I'm bored of my NaNo. *smirk* **

**Only 14000 words left to write.**

**Anyway, expect **_**tons **_**more updates to all my fics this December. Prolly around twice a week to make up for November. **

**Thanks for not killing me! Next chappie of this'll be up in an hour or two. **


	5. Chapter 5

The cab Sherlock hailed got them to the college in a matter of minutes.

"John." Sherlock ran a hand through his hair. "I think you'd better just stay out here."

"What?" John looked confused. "Didn't the note say to bring me in?"

"And I have to do as the notes say?" Sherlock snapped. "Stay out here."

"Why?"

"Because." Sherlock grimaced. "Because it's unsafe."

John frowned. "Are you kidding me?"

"No." Sherlock frowned. "The man who wrote the note is dangerous."

John sighed. "Fine."

"Fine?" Sherlock looked a bit off guard. "That's fine?"

"Yeah. Of course." John sighed. "I'll just sit out here on this bench."

"O-okay." Sherlock nodded slowly, jerkily, then walked quite quickly into the building.

John rolled his eyes. Sherlock was going to get himself killed. He decided he'd give Sherlock ten minutes, then he'd go and intervene.

His revolver was a heavy weight in his pocket as the minutes ticked by.

Ten minutes were gone.

John got to his feet and entered the building Sherlock had gone into. His boots were a little less than silent, echoing through the empty dark building with every step.

He winced every time his feet came down, but no one seemed to be jumping out at him.

On the second floor, voices reached John's ears. One was most assuredly Sherlock, he deep baritone carried through the halls. The other was unfamiliar, high pitched and whining.

John peered into the nearest door. Sherlock was seated in an office chair, looking relaxed and normal. The other man was sitting on the desk that the chair belonged to. Sherlock's foot was against the desk, twisting the chair back and forth as the two men talked.

John peeled his ears for the topic of conversation.

"...so," The other high-pitched voice was saying. "I was looking for a grey one. Apparently it's not 'in' or something, so I had to go with black. And _none _of the choices were fitted."

Sherlock cleared his throat. "I don't see what's wrong with black."

"There's nothing wrong with it. It is slightly scary-looking, I suppose." The man gestured to Sherlock. "Case in point."

John frowned. What the _hell _were they talking about?

"Hmm." Sherlock looked at his watch. "I may have to go shortly."

The man sighed. "Well, all right. I suppose I've got some grading to do."

Sherlock smirked. Grading. "Very well. I'll see you later. Or not, as the case may be."

"I doubt it." The man hopped lightly off the desk. "Good bye."

Sherlock came out the door a second later. Of course the first thing he noticed was John. His mouth twitched in amusement and displeasure.

Grabbing John's arm he led them out of the building.

"Did you fix it?" John asked him when they were in the cab.

"Mostly." Sherlock flipped his phone open.

"What do you mean, mostly?"

"Well, he just wanted to meet me. So he's going to stop bugging Mycroft. But, you know, if I get particularly annoyed at Mycroft, all I have to do is make a phone call."

John didn't know if he should find this amusing or malicious. "Who was he?"

"His name's James. Or Jim, as he prefers to be called. Jim Moriarty."

"What were you talking about?"

Sherlock's mouth twitched, this time in a smile. "We're both a bit put out by the fact that we can't get the types of suit jackets we normally wear. Companies are very stubborn to go with what's in style rather than what we want."

**A/N**

**An even 5. I love it when that happens.  
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** Anyway, this is the end. **

**Thank you so much for all the reviews and favourites and alerts! They make me write better!**


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